


Shopping

by bigtallray



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Clothes, Friendship, I just want them to be happy, Makeup, Other, Shopping, johto trio - Freeform, just read it with the knowledge that capitalism sucks mkay, silver being a massive emo as per usual, this came out sounding lowkey consumerist but im too tired to fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigtallray/pseuds/bigtallray
Summary: Silver takes a shopping trip with Crystal and Gold. After years of wearing the same thing, he needs a change.
Relationships: Gold & Silver (Pokemon Adventures), Gold/Silver (Pokemon Adventures)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Shopping

“Well, this is strange,” Crys says, “I can’t imagine you wearing anything but your turtleneck jacket.”

I stare at myself in the changing room mirror, and it's like I’m looking at a different person. I’m wearing a colourful yet elegant jacket, bright and friendly and professional. It was something Crys picked out, as she swept her favourite store for anything she thought I could try. It doesn’t suit me, though. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.

“I don’t like it,” I tell Crystal, unzipping it. I’m wearing a plain black T-Shirt underneath, like I do everyday. “Is there somewhere else we could go?”

“But everything here is great,” she sighs. It’s full of the sort of business-casual stuff that she wears all the time, being the spiritual 43-year-old she is. With Crys it’s sports gear or business, nothing in between.

“Well, it’s not like you have the best fashion sense,” I tell her, but I’m smiling. As difficult as this shopping expedition has been so far, at least I’m on a shopping expedition. I’ve wanted to have a makeover for years, but I’ve never been able to. I had to dress for practicality, always on the run, so everything I wore was as basic as it could be. It wasn’t like I had the money, anyway. The only thing I kind of liked was my hair.

Then, suddenly, my turtleneck hits me in the face.

“What the FUCK, Gold?” I snap, pulling it off my head. He’s leaning against the wall, giggling.

“This would be so much easier if we had Hot Topic in Johto,” he snorts, the obvious implication being that I’m a raging emo. Which is true, so I can’t complain.

“No shit,” I tell him, putting my turtleneck jacket back on. At least he passed it to me, even if it was in his classic Gold style. “Is there  _ nowhere _ that sells alt clothing around here?”

“Alt?” says Crys, “As in alternative?”

“Yes, Crys, as in alternative.” I lightly bash my head against the wall.

“Why didn’t you say so? There are plenty of weird goth shops around here!”

I pause and look at her. A moment goes by. Then Gold bursts into laughter.

“I thought that was implied,” I say with a small laugh. We’ve been rummaging in the wrong places for a whole hour, looking through the shops that Crys brought us to. Jesus, she doesn’t understand a thing about fashion. I don’t either, and neither does Gold. We’re just three clueless pieces of shit, exacerbating each other's cluelessness.

“Well,” she throws her hands in the air, a grin tugging at her lips, “Fuck it, then. Let’s go.”

As we walk, Gold puts his arm around my shoulder, and I smile to myself. I love him so much, fucking hell. I put my arm around his waist, and I’m sure I can genuinely hear his heart pounding. He gets wonderfully flustered, for someone so determined to hit on everything with two legs. Sometimes three legs, actually.

“Gold, where do you get your clothes?” I ask him, “You always suit what you wear, even if it looks like shit.”

“Uh, they’re mainly hand-me-downs from my cousin Jim.”

I narrow my eyes, “Your cousin Jim?”

“Yup.”

“Gold, you’re seventeen. How the fuck are you still getting hand-me-downs?”

“Jim never stops growing,” he shrugs, “It’s actually kind of concerning.”

“. . . Fair enough.”

“Anyway,” he grins, “You were saying I always suit what I wear?”

“Shut up.”

I lean forwards and kiss him on the lips, and he kisses me back. We stop walking, just standing there kissing each other, until a disgruntled voice cuts through the air.

“Get a fucking room, you two.”

We turn and look at Crystal, standing there waiting. I smile and kiss Gold again, one more time. He blushes, and we walk on, holding hands.

The first shop that Crys takes us to is ridiculously expensive, but the clothes are kind of nice. Apparently, it’s a region-wide chain, and it can  _ hardly _ even be called alternative, being as capitalistic as it is. I want to leave pretty much immediately, and with one look at Gold and Crys, I can tell they feel the same. I notice the makeup section, though, and suddenly I want to stay a little longer. I stare at the floor.

“Uh, guys,” I say quietly, “Do you think we could . . . check out the makeup?”

A smile flashes across Gold’s face, “Silver, I’ve been waiting for years to see you in winged eyeliner.”

“ _ Shut up. _ ”

“No, seriously, you’d rock it.”

I look up, and to my surprise, he’s being genuine. He guides me over to the makeup, and we look through it together. Crystal hangs back, smiling.

We go through every colour and shade of everything, picking out all the things I’d like to try. We try the free samples. We match foundation to my skin tone. We get brushes. I think of the crazy looks I’ve seen Blue pull off, and I pick up everything she used in them. After a while, we’ve got a full kit. And boy, does it look expensive.

“Gold, do you mind . . . distracting the employees?” I ask in a low voice, nodding to the two people at the checkout. To my knowledge, there’s no-one else in the shop, and there isn’t a security camera near here. This should be an easy getaway.

“Sure,” he smirks, catching my drift. He proceeds to stride over to the till and begins arguing loudly about faux fur prices.

I shove everything in my pockets, and glance up at Crystal. She doesn’t seem particularly surprised, nor at all morally opposed. Despite her preference for rules, she doesn’t give half a shit when others break them. In a moment of silent understanding, we begin to speed-walk out of the shop, attempting to avoid suspicion. Gold is still arguing about faux fur, screaming at the top of his lungs.

We reach the door, and then we bolt. We really shouldn’t - it only looks more suspicious - but it gives such a burst of adrenaline. I laugh, she laughs, and we duck into the next shop. I honestly can’t wait to try this shit on. I’ve always wanted to wear makeup.

Gold catches up to us after a minute, and the two of us throw our arms around him. I’m so happy to be with them. I really am.

The shop we’re in now has a thick, musty smell, with racks of vintage flannel and piles of band shirts. The single cashier gives us a nod when he sees us, and he has more piercings than I’ve ever seen on a person before. I think I like this place.

Crystal and Gold help me gather up a huge pile of stuff, and I try everything on one by one in the tiny changing room. I can’t help but keep smiling at myself everytime I catch a glimpse in the mirror. I feel so much more like  _ me _ . Maybe I’m falling into the consumer mindset, but I really do feel happier dressed like this. My regular clothes have far too much baggage. Everything I experienced in them was hell.

“Ughhhhhhh,” I hear Gold groan, “I’m fucking  _ bored. _ ”

“We just robbed a shop,” Crystal deadpans.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“It was TWO MINUTES ago!”

Everything I experienced in my old clothes was hell,  _ except  _ for meeting those two dorks.

I exit the changing room dressed in a Ramones tank top, ripped skinny jeans, a knee-length black denim jacket and fishnet gloves. Gold and Crys applaud and whoop and cheer as they see me, and I give them a little twirl, laughing. I can finally stop running. I can exist as myself. I can stop surviving, and finally live.

We buy several bags of the stuff, and it’s cheap as hell. I reckon it cost half of what the makeup would have cost in total. I make a mental plan to DIY some patches and pin badges as soon as I get home, or at least look up how to make them. Punk is DIY at heart, after all.

“Hey,” I ask the cashier before we leave, “Where did you get your piercings?”

He shrugs, “There’s a tattoo parlour a couple blocks away. Why?”

“I think I might get one myself. Maybe a lip piercing?”

“Oh, sick! I’ll give you directions, if you want?”

“Thanks,” I smile.

Gold, Crys and I take the train back to New Bark town together, hardly straying from a group hug for the whole journey. They can tell how happy I am, and I can tell how happy I am, too. Every minute I spend with them makes the world just that bit less awful. Tears suddenly start to well up in my eyes, and I bury my head in Gold’s raven hair to dry them. I’m happy. I’m living. I’m happy.


End file.
